


Sober Up

by SamMasterson



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (not a bashfic), Gen, well then, y'all ever had an older sibling that could do no wrong?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 07:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17576408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamMasterson/pseuds/SamMasterson
Summary: Thunderclash is the golden child. Rodimus is the fuck-up. This is the way it is.





	Sober Up

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr

Rodimus looked up at Thunderclash’s face, frozen in an expression of hurt and surprise, and almost – almost – wanted to take the words back. Instead, he turned away, intending to head to his quarters or the bar or somewhere, anywhere else but this particular hallway at this particular moment.

“Why?”

It was soft and plaintive and maddeningly genuine, and Rodimus felt the gall and bile build in the back of his intake as he turned around again.

“  ** _‘Why?’_**  Because it isn’t  ** _fair_** ,” he bit out, frame trembling. “Because you and I have made plenty of similar mistakes, but people excuse yours and not mine. Because when  ** _you_**  mess up, it was you being unaware or excessively forgiving of people’s flaws and history – just looking past all of that to see their hidden potential – but when  ** _I_**  screw up, it’s because I’m stupid and naive and easily manipulated. Because when  ** _you_**  apologise, it’s you doing the right thing, but  ** _my_**  apologies are dismissed as desperate pandering. You’re  ** _giving_** ; I just  ** _give in_**  too easily.”

Rodimus ground his dentae. “It’s because when you administer justice, it’s righteous and responsible, but when I do it, it’s seen as cruel and unfair. It’s because when you try to change yourself for the better, it’s an improvement, but if I try to do better, I’m just being  ** _inconsistent_**!” Tears slid down his cheeks, hot and angry. “When you were sick, people rallied together to help you live and keep you doing what you wanted to do. Anything bad that happens to me turns into a ship-wide in-joke, which I apparently  ** _deserve_**  because it’s always my fault in the first place, anyway! People mourned you before you were even  ** _properly dead_** , Thunderclash – no-one showed me much more than impatience when asking me to identify my own  ** _corpse_**.”

He reared up suddenly, jabbing a digit into Thunderclash’s chestplate. “ ‘The flames on your chest are  ** _tacky_** , Rodimus!’ ‘You’re  ** _flashy_** and  ** _shallow_** , Rodimus!’ ‘Stop with the  ** _fake cheeriness_** , Rodimus!’ ‘That’s so  ** _dramatic_** , Rodimus!’ ‘Be more  ** _sincere_** , Rodimus!’ ‘Don’t be so  ** _childish_**  and  ** _petty_** , Rodimus!’ And I try  ** _so hard_** , but it never matters! I do  ** _everything_**  you do, and it’s still wrong! So that’s ‘why’! But most recently–” he snarled, “I  ** _HATE YOU_**  because Optimus would  ** _NEVER_**  have made Megatron captain of  ** _YOUR_** ship!”

There was nothing but shock and pity and a horrible sort of understanding on Thunderclash’s face, and something seemed to snuff out in Rodimus’s optics. “And… and after all of that, some people ended up liking  ** _him_** better, anyway,” he said quietly, stepping back to be out of Thunderclash’s EM Field. “And I was just a petulant child, because I didn’t want my murderer on my ship, telling me what to do.” He wiped his cheeks with the heel of one servo. “And then, other people handed us over to the DJD because I’d rolled over, like I always do, and let him stay.”  He looked back up into Thunderclash’s wide, uncertain optics. “I hate you because everyone loves you, no matter what, but I catch it for not being able to please everyone all the time. I can’t please  ** _anyone_** ,” he mumbled, almost as an afterthought, and sighed raggedly. “Go ahead. Say something noble and placating and mature in the wake of my childish, hysterical outburst, and cement our respective positions in the universe. I don’t care.” He looked away. “I know – I know it’s not exactly your fault, but… it’s not entirely mine, either. And it’s  ** _not fair_**.”


End file.
